Forte's Elegiac of Exaltation
by Linda J
Summary: Set to my version of the Disney BATB storyline including Belle and Adam's two young children Adam Jr. and Denise. All other characters belong to Disney, and I will not be making any money from this fan fiction. Christmas time approaches, and everyone is eager to welcome the holiday festivities into the castle once more. All except one who still loathes the thought of all
1. Chapter 1

**Forte's Elegiac of Exaltation**

**by Linda J.**

**RATED: everyone**

**Disclaimer: **Set to my version of the Disney BATB storyline including Belle and Adam's two young children Adam Jr. and Denise. All other characters belong to Disney, and I will not be making any money from this fan fiction.

**Summary: **Christmas time approaches, and everyone is eager to welcome the holiday festivities into the castle once more. All except one who _still_ loathes the thought of all this mindless, jovial celebrating.

**ch1**

"Either the master has more steps added to this stair case every year, or I'm getting older!" Cogsworth huffed windily as he and Lumière climbed the last few steps to the attic door. Lumiere, who was noticeably less winded chuckled softly.

"I've told you a hundred times bon ami, you indulge too much in our fine french food. If you would shed some of that weight, you could trot up these stairs as easily as I do."

"_Trot up these stairs?_" Cogsworth mocked. "You broke out in a sweat long before I did!"

"I did not!" the frenchman flatly denied.

"Did so!" Cogsworth argued, determined to have the last word. Suddenly both men were passed by a castle's interior decorator Angelique, who stomped irritably toward the door.

"You two can stop that arguing any time now!" she snapped impatiently, tapping her foot as she waited for Cogsworth to open the door with the key.

"Honestly, if I did not need you two to help me bring these boxes down, I'd do this alone!" the woman reminded them both yet again.

"Angelique, belle ami," Lumière cooed subtly. "Why are you always so cross?"

Her reply was to stick her nose in the air and look the other way. "I cannot help it, Lumière; It is the way I am. Now, hurry Cogsworth, we haven't got all day."

"What I don't understand good woman, is why you come up here every year, and drag us along?" Cogsworth commented as he bent over to insert the key and turn the doorknob. "Why don't you simply stay down stairs while some of the younger men in the castle retrieve these boxes for you."

"Perhaps she misses her old dwelling place, huh, Angelique?" Lumière suggested as he gave the fussy woman a wink and coy smile. Instantly, Angelique's face contorted in disgust as she rubbed her temples.

"Oh no, no, no! Nothing could be further from the truth, Lumière! I have always deplored this dusty old attic! Every time I come back to this prison of mine, I have nightmares for at least a week." Then, as the door creaked open, Cogsworth stood back to allow Angelique to enter.

"If that is the case cheri, why _don't_ you let someone else do this job?" Lumière followed behind with lit lantern in hand.

"No one else but me knows which boxes need to come down," she softly commented as she began to rummage through the attic.

"Its not really all that difficult Angelique," Cogsworth pointed out somewhat smugly. "Simply locate the boxes with the word 'Christmas' written on them and that's it. Anyone who can read can do this job."

"A-ah, you are wrong," the decorator replied with equal smugness. "No one else knows what has gone out of fashion _except me_. I will not use any decorations that have gone out of style. Besides, there is a very specific order in which these boxes must come down and only I know what comes first, and what comes last."

Cogsworth sighed; if there was one thing he had learned over the years is that arguing with a strong headed woman was pointless. "Very well, Angelique. Have it your way."

She smiled, quite pleased with herself, as she continued to sort and stack the boxes marked 'Christmas'. "I always do, Monsieur Cogsworth. I _always_ do"

Suddenly, the sound of children's laughter as well as the distinct sound of heavy paws speedily tromping up the stairs echoed into the attic. Cogsworth turned around just as Prince Adam II and Princess Denise made their way around the final curve of the 1000 or more step spiral staircase. Instantly, he grimaced smacking his forehead, as he saw the prince was riding on the back of his sister, who was known throughout the kingdom as '_La Fille Bête'_.

The female beast like creature, romped up the stairs on all fours, like the beast she preferred to be, rather than walk upright as the human her parents insisted she was. "Oh young master! How many times do we have to tell you not to ride your sister through the house?"

The prince was still laughing when they reached the top of the stairs, "I know, but this is so much fun! You should try it some time Cogsworth!"

Cogsworth turned red with embarrassment. "I would never do anything so undignified; and shame on you young lady for encouraging your brother!"

"Oh stop being such a fuddy-duddy, Cogsworth!" Denise snapped, sounding a bit rude. "It doesn't hurt me to give Adam a ride, and besides, it was the fasted way to get up here in time to help."

"Yah, momma said we could help you bring down the decorations." Adam explained as he dismounted from Denise's back who then rose to stand up right like a human again.

"Very well then," Cogsworth tried to regain his composure as the two royal children began to explore the attic. "Angelique, just point out what you need taken down stairs and we'll happily oblige."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

On the castle's main floor, set off to a far corner and apart to itself, was the chapel. A large and solemn room with a ceiling that rose three stories high. The sanctified room was ornately decorated in typical baroque fashion, with faces of angels peeking around every corner, as portraits of pious saints graced the stained glass windows that allowed only a fraction of light; though that light shining through would beautifully illuminate the room in shades of blue, red, yellow, and green. White mabel pillars trimmed in yellow gold held up the mahogany arches giving those who came inside to sit in the rows of mahogany pews an unobstructed view of the chapel's surrounding beauty. The maître de chapelle, Monsieur Forte was there of course, as he always was; perched three stories high in his loft, along with his cherished pipe organ. He sat on his green velvet bench quietly reading his what he'd been working on all night and into the morning, humming the sheet music to himself, smiling as he marveled at his newest compilation of sheer genius.

Suddenly, Forte's attention was distracted as he heard a distinct sound coming from one of the open air ducts by his foot that was used to distribute heat from one of the castle's wood burning furnaces. It was the sound of the royal children talking to each other as they walked to the center royal reception hall; their voices echoed so clearly, it was as if they were yelling into a megaphone. "Where should we set these down?" Adam asked Denise as he looked aimlessly around the gigantic room.

"I'd say this is as good a place as any Adam," his sister offered as she set her box down on the floor where she stood.

'Boxes?' the quirky musician wondered to himself. 'Why on earth would they put boxes in the reception hall?' Forte stopped what he was doing and leaned in closely to the air duct, curious to hear anything else the children might say.

"This is where they put the tree last year," Denise began to say, only to have Adam quickly contradict her.

"No you're wrong; it was more over that way," he argued as he pointed the left side of the room.

"No, I'm pretty sure it was here," Denise insisted, only to have Adam shake his head with defiant certainty.

"No, cause remember it being close to those windows over there." he flatly insisted.

"Well, little brother, I've been in this house longer than you, and I say the tree always goes up right around here."

Forte continued to listen in on their little disagreement, 'Why would they be talking about bringing a tree into the reception hall when it's not even Christm-m…', "oh no!" he gasped under his breath. Immediately he stood from his bench and dashed down the narrow black iron spiral staircase that connected his loft to the rest of the world.

When he arrived to the hall, Cogsworth, Angelique and Lumière were already there with their own boxes and all were debating on the location of last year's tree. "It does NOT matter to me where I put the tree last year," Angelique snorted arrogantly to end the pointless argument .

"This year, I think it should go-o-o-o-o…" She looked around the room for some kind of inspiration. She turned herself around to look toward the entrance way of the hall and walked toward the main doorway. "Right about…here."

Suddenly, her expression turned sour the moment she saw Forte entering the room. He was hurriedly tying his hair back with a black silk ribbon. The ribbon blended well with the black of his own hair, though many strands of his white lock refused to be tied down, and stubbornly dangled about his ear and cheek. As he stormed his way to confront her face to face, Angelique sneered, "Go away you miserable old wretch."

Forte ignored her insults, "It's bad enough we have to look at what's inside those boxes on _that_ dreadful day woman, why would you bring that torture upon so soon? Or do you want to see my eyes bleed?"

"We do not care whether or not you approve of our timing for Christmas celebrations, Monsieur Forte," Cogsworth sternly announced. "And as far as seeing your eyes bleed because we have put up the decorations too early for your liking, well," the pudgy man chuckled and grinned so wide his eyes nearly squinted shut. "That's just an added bonus for everyone else in the castle."

"Monsieur," Lumière kindly interrupted. "Christmas is _only_ two weeks away."

Forte threw his arms in the air, "Two weeks? Good heavens, let's just drag some ugly tree into the castle on All Saints Day! Perhaps we should pull out the yule log in July or start exchanging presents in April!"

"Monsieur Forte, stop being such a- _fuddy-duddy_." Cogsworth smiled very pleased that he could easily pass the title Denise gave him onto someone more deserving. "Christmas comes but once a year, and even the likes of you can tolerate a little good will and cheer."

Then remembering the last Christmas Forte had actually spent in the castle, Lumière leaned in close to Cogsworth and whispered. "Perhaps we should just let sleeping dogs lay, aye Cogsworth? We know how, um, irrational our friend here can become."

Overhearing what Lumière had said, Denise's brown eyes widened as far as they could. In an excited but growling tone she turned, pointing her finger at Forte. "That's right; you tried to kill our parents on Christmas eve!"

Instantly Forte folded his arms over his chest turning his nose in the air and sneered. "How many time must I say I'm sorry for that?"

"When we've heard it enough, we'll let you know." Lumière seemingly joked, though his tone was entirely serious. Forte's lip curled and his brow cocked, giving the frenchman an icy glare.

"Enough of this temper tantrum, Forte." Cogsworth snapped. "Now that you have returned to your, a-hem, hu-man form;" the castle's majordomo paused momentarily giving Forte a hard look over from head to toe, questioning if 'human' was even the correct thing to call the musician. "Considering your horrendous behavior that last Christmas you were here in the castle, the least you could do is **attempt** to try to make amends with all of us and join in the celebration of Christmas."

Denise then walked to Forte's side, and put her furry arm around his. His instinct was to cringe a bit, recalling from his childhood the sensation of touch too often followed by pain, Reluctantly he grit his teeth and allowed the princess to have his arm but nothing more. "Maestro, I want you to play something just for me on Christmas day. You will do that for me, right?"

Forte stared coldly at the beautiful beast's face as he vividly recalled how, when her father was a young prince, before the enchantment, had demanded music from Forte. However in spite the fact that Forte went out of his way to make the tune up tempo, the master hated it; called it gloomy in fact. "You know not of what you ask from me, my child."

Denise merely tilted her head slightly, the exact way her mother often did and smirked the same way as well. "You're weird Maestro Forte; but I like that about you."

Young prince Adam also approached the strange man he had come to think of as some kind of eccentric old uncle. "There'll be all kinds of good food, and drink Maestro Forte. And Angelique will make this room so-o-o-o beautiful; and Maestro Fife will play music and the grown ups will dance, and there will be presents for everyone, and…"

"What did you say?" Forte interrupted sounding a bit miffed. "Fife will be playing the music?"

"He has preformed every Christmas since, well, since he took your job." Lumière explained, hoping not to upset the sensitive artist too terribly bad.

"I see," Forte's eyes, though black as coal were as chilling as solid spheres of blue of ice. "Well then your highness, perhaps you should ask that simpleton to play you a song instead. That sort of nonsensical gayety related to Christmas is precisely his um…" the mean spirited old man grinned devilishly, "-Forte."

"I hear jealousy coming from of that wicked tongue of yours, Monsieur Forte." Angelique commented in her own cool manner, folding her arms she began to impatiently tap her foot. "Now, if you have nothing positive to contribute to this matter, you should just be on your way."

Forte's eyes widened taking offense to Angelique's bluntness. "Very well," he coolly snapped as he whirled on his heels and left in a huff.

Feeling proud of her ability to shoo Forte off, Angelique smiled as she began to open up the first box. "If I had known it was that easy to get rid of that oily snake, I would have spoken up sooner."


	2. Chapter 3

**Forte's Elegiac of Exaltation ch2**

By the end of the afternoon, the reception hall was beginning to take on a kind of holiday glow as rows and rows ribbons red, gold, and green were strung from one corner to the next, while decorations galore dangled and sparkled from one end of the room to the other. Denise and Adam both took part in helping with the decorations and were thrilled to have their mother join in and offer a hand. Their father never actually partook in the task of decorating, but was always pleased to take a little time and listen the stories the children told about what happened during the yearly event.

"Momma?" Denise quietly asked as she handed her mother, who stood on a ladder, a delicate string of silver bells. "Can we do something special for Monsieur Forte since this is his first Christmas with us?"

Belle kept her attention on hanging the string of bells, though her eyes did widen a bit hearing Denise's request. Christmas and Forte combined, was a sour memory for Belle, and now her very daughter wants to do something 'nice' for the man who tried to collapse an entire castle down on her and her would be husband? Slowly a soft smile crossed Belle's face. "What exactly did you have in mind for the maestro?"

"I don't know," the furry faced girl confessed as she began to have a far away look in her eyes. "I was hoping you would have an idea."

Belle came down the ladder; she had an idea. "Let's go talk to Forte and see if there are any holiday traditions he likes. I'm sure there is _something_ about Christmas that he enjoys."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

As Belle and Denise walked into the chapel they were both surprised that the room was absolutely and eerily silent. In the past, whenever the eccentric musician would get upset, which always seemed to be the case, he would retreat into his world of music. The more upset he was, the louder he played; but strangely, not this time. When they walked inside they immediately saw in the first row of pews a dark form of a thin man kneeling by himself. As they quietly came up to him, they could see he was holding a wooden rosary between his folded hands, thumbing the beads one at a time silently mouthing the words to his prayers. Immediately Belle put her hand out to stop Denise from disturbing Forte who humbling obeyed with a quiet nod.

Belle's other hand went up to her mouth, as she felt a twinge of uneasiness creep up her spine; religion was a touchy subject for her, ever since her mother died. She passed away just as Belle was taking an interest in faith, and her father's first reaction to the sudden loss of his wife was to blame God the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost; the pope, the priests and nuns in their home town, and all the saints, even the ones whose name's he had forgotten. For years after her mother's death, any mention of church or anything related to religion would make Maurice close down and withdraw from everyone. He stopped going to mass, and since he wasn't going, neither did Belle. Over the years Belle lost all serious interest in the Catholic faith, and was relieved to marry a man who felt very much the same way. Sure, there was a God, neither one disputed that, but just who or what god is, was a mystery that perhaps someday in the future they could explore a little closer.

Form where she stood, Belle studied Forte's rosary and even though it was nothing like her mother's, the sight of it, brought back fresh new memories she had long forgotten. Until now, Belle could only vaguely remember what her mother looked like, what she wore, or the sound of her voice. She did recall however, it was her mother who taught her to read and gave her the first book she ever owned; now, seeing Forte kneeling quietly and holding his rosary in such a reverent way, jarred more memories of her mother buried deep inside her mind. Bitter sweet memories of watching her mother kneel by her bedside every night holding her rosary as she prayed her nightly prayers. Then, came the sad and painful memories of seeing her mother's cold corpse laying at rest, holding the precious rosary between her hardened fingers as Belle said goodbye to her as to lid to her mother's coffin was closed shut.

Belle took a deep painful sigh, which caught Forte's attention. He lifted his head, and slowly turned to see the mother and daughter standing there patiently waiting for him to finish. He put his rosary away in his coat pocket, and stood, but backed away a little to preserve his space. "My ladies," he spoke cool and politely. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Monsieur Forte," Belle began. "We were wondering if there is something we could do this Christmas to make it feel special for you?"

For a moment the man stood there speechless, looking at them with a dull and dreary expression. "Yes. You can cancel it."

He then scooted out from the pew and began to walk away, heading toward the iron spiral case that led to his loft. Belle rolled her eyes, putting her hands on hips and raised her voice loud enough so he could hear. "Isn't there something, _anything_ you like about Christmas?"

Forte stopped in his steps and whirled around, lifting his hands high enough to show the women his empty palms. "Other than waiting for it to end, I can't think of anything." he shrugged exasperatedly.

Denise stepped up with a bright look in her brown eyes. "What about all the wonderful smells in the air at Christmas time? The smell of newly fallen snow and fresh cut pine. The, the smell of roast turkey and venison. Or, maybe the of cloves, and cinnamon and, and pumpkin pie."

Suddenly Belle had an idea, "Monsieur Forte, when you were a child, what did you eat on Christmas day?"

His expression went blank again. "Turnips," he replied drily, just before he turned around again and took his first step up the staircase.

"Anything else?" Belle sounded to almost plea with him. He stopped in his steps and peered over the black iron rail.

"Nothing else. Just turnips, as any other day, your highness." This time he paused waiting for her response. Even though Belle grew up in humble conditions, her and her father had always been able to eat well; it was hard to imagine a family who ate nothing but turnips everyday.

"Well Forte, can you tell us of any traditions or customs your family had at Christmas time that you'd like us to do here in the castle this year?" He looked down at his feet, as he pondered her question, then back at her.

"My dear Belle, I grew up in an orphanage, and I assure you we did _not_ celebrate Christmas. Outside of mass of course, but none of this, **this…nonsense** _you here in the castle_ consider to be Christmas." Then once more, he trotted up the steps to perch in his loft.

'Orphanage?' Belle repeated to herself in mild surprise. She then noticed how seemingly pleased Forte was with himself, as he made his way to his bench. Stubbornly she refused to give up and quickly followed behind him. Forte all but ignored her as he opened an air vent that Belle's father actually invented specifically for Forte, which allowed a constant flow of air from the cellar furnace into his organ, making it possible for him to play his music without an assistant. Even though he knew perfectly well Belle was standing there, he made no attempt to acknowledge her presence as he began to softly play. His tune was as soft as a whisper, and as delicate as the chiming of bells made of glass; not his usual dramatic or angsty melodies that left a person to feel as if they had been assaulted. Belle stood close to Forte's side, speaking gently. She could see his eyes were closed. "Monsieur Forte, I never knew you were an orphan."

He cracked his eye open just a little, peeking up at the princess's long sad face. "Well, now you do," he quietly mused as he closed his eye again and began hitting the keys just a bit harder.

By now, Denise decided to come up the stairs in her own way of course; which was to jump up on the edge of iron rail, and leap up from one level of the spiral case to the next, climbing it in three easy pounces. The noise of Denise's heavy claws clinking on the black iron broke Forte's concentration and so he stopped playing, looking at bit frustrated at her when she landed on his loft and then sat down on the floor like a dog. "Maestro, didn't you ever get any gifts at Christmas?"

The man let out an uncomfortable sigh as he tried to answer the question. "E-e-eh…Well, technically I suppose I did. Although they were never wrapped, but usually Christmas day was when we were given a new set of clothes. They weren't actually 'new' clothes, but they were new to us."

"Well, we'll see to it that you get something new this year, Maestro. Really new." Denise proudly assured him with a smile.

"I don't care about any of that," he scoffed irritably and squirmed as he turned back to play a new tune. Still quiet and soft but very grim like what you would hear at someone's funeral.

"Well, I still want you to play something for me, maestro." Denise reminded him in an authoritative tone, but as she heard the droll music he was playing now, it made think twice. "M-m-maybe something more…lively?"

Forte opened his eyes and sneered, but continued to play his gloomy music. He then closed his eyes again, but the sneer was replaced with a serene and pleasant smile. "So princess, tell me, what is _Christmas_ all about?"

Denise's eyes brightened. "It's about that wondering feeling you get when you wake up and find all the gifts under the tree."

Forte's smiled broadened. "Anything else?"

Belle put her arm around her child as she answered the question. "It's about being with your family, and your loved ones, Monsieur Forte."

Forte's expression did not change as he continued to play his tune with his eyes closed. "Anything else?"

Denise answered; "Its the stories we share, the music, the laughs and the friendship."

Still, Forte seemed amused though unsatisfied with their answers. "Anything _else_?"

Belle smiled, she thought she figured out Forte's riddle. "It's the joy you give to other's on Christmas day. To watch the children's eyes light up and watch the older people relax with a warm cup of cheer."

Instantly Forte's music stopped; he opened his eyes and turned to look directly at Belle and Denise with an unmistakable air of condescension. Obviously their well intended answers hadn't pleased him. "_Any-thing -__**else**_?"

Both women looked at each other. What _else_ could he be referring to? He waited a moment until it was clear they had no response. "Well then," he shot his nose in the air, his eyes batting with a nervous twitch as his voice dripped with self-righteous conceit. "Perhaps I do need to write something for you after all dear child."

"Monsieur Forte," Belle asserted herself as politely as she could. "I just want this Christmas to be as pleasant and enjoyable as it can possibly be for everyone in the castle. Can I count on you to at least show some cooperation?"

Forte's naturally curved eyebrow cocked, an he spoke almost seductively. "But of course, your highness. You can count on me to bring to true meaning of Christmas to this castle once and for all."

Belle gave him a suspicious look. Deep down she knew Forte was being quite rude, because Forte was only this polite when he was being his rudest. "Very well, Monsieur Forte; if you feel that is something you need to do, by all means do so. We start the celebrations on Christmas eve. Can I count on seeing you at the party then?"

"Oh absolutely!" he assured her with a cheeky grin. "I promise I'll be there with rings on my fingers and bells on my toes."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"What do you suppose he meant by that?" Belle asked her husband Prince Adam as they sat together next to the fireplace enjoying their evening glass of wine and a good book.

Adam shook his head a little, "Not sure, he's quite a mysterious fellow isn't he? All the years I've known him, he never mentioned he was an orphan."

Belle sighed softly, thinking about how Forte described what Christmas had been like in his childhood. Nothing cruel or abusive apparently, just nothing very jovial or bright or even special.

"I know," she suddenly perked up with a smile. "We'll see to it that Forte gets the best Christmas he ever imagined."

"Belle," Adam smirked, "As far as Forte is concerned, I have a feeling the **best** Christmas, would be **no** christmas."

"We'll see about that." Belle smirked back as if she was accepting a challenge.


	3. Chapter 2

For the next two weeks, excitement grew as the grand day approached. Angelique had once again done a marvelous job at transforming the castle into a virtual winter wonderland for all the kingdom to see. People had already begun to exchange presents with one another, and the closer Christmas day came, the more the excitement built. At last Christmas eve was here and the celebration was officially under way. People from all over Prince Adam's territory came to the castle to enjoy the festivities. There was music and laughter galore as people gathered in the grand reception hall. A large banquet table was laid out with all sorts of fabulous foods and treats for all to partake in. The aroma from the pungent spices and eggnog filled everyone's nostrils, luring them closer to the table and have a drink or two. Another year had come and gone, and there were new stories to share around the fireplace.

Then finally the lord of the house, Prince Adam made his entrance. He was wearing his finest blue over coat, and finely groomed. He humbly received his guests and walked about the room to greet those he rarely saw during the year. Cogsworth met him by the fireplace with a glass of eggnog for the Prince in one hand, just as Lumière appeared with a glass for the Prince in his. Both men exchanged jealous glares at one another as they each handed Adam the glass they had intended for him at the same time, forcing the Prince to take both, one in each hand. "U-um, thank you Cogsworth, Lumière."

Adam looked down at both glasses, knowing that the men would be waiting to see which glass he actually drank from first. As if it was a sign as to which of the men Adam approved of more. Adam's response was to nervously smile at the men who stood there silently eyeing him, and continue to hold both glasses until Belle could come and rescue him by taking one of the glasses.

"Lovely weather for this time of the year isn't it Prince Adam?" Cogsworth rolled back on his heels as he began his small talk.

Adam smiled and nodded, "Uh, yes, yes it is," he politely agreed.

Lumière then interrupted sorely. "Why would you ask the Prince such a stupid question? Don't you know how busy he is with all the burdens of ruling this kingdom? All the time he dedicates to the administration alone would keep him inside all day long. You should know better Cogsworth."

"I'm perfectly aware of how much time the master spends looking after the well being of this territory and its people." Cogsworth snapped back. "_I'm_ there every morning with him when he's getting his work done, but you wouldn't know that because you're always off doing…doing _whatever_ it is that you do that time in the morning!"

"Oh, and getting the castle up and running every morning isn't as important as _your_ job, Monsieur Cogsworth?" Lumière argued back defensively.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Adam insisted trying not to spill either glass of eggnog. "It's Christmas eve. Come on, let's put any arguing off until December 26 alright?"

"Splendid idea, master," Mrs Potts then joined the group along with Belle's father Maurice. "There are enough days on the calendar to get your squabbling done, let's all relax and enjoy some peace around the castle for a while."

"Here, here." Maurice said as he pretended to hold a glass in his hand and made a toast.

Seeing an opportunity to rid himself of the glasses of eggnog Adam smiled and handed one to Mrs. Potts and Maurice. "You can't make a toast with a glass of this delicious eggnog, here, take these."

Mrs. Potts and Maurice took the glasses, as they exchanged glances wondering how it was the Prince had two waiting in his hands. "Why thank you master."

Maurice raised his glass for real this time, and made the toast again. After he took a sip, a look of nostalgic pleasure came over his face. "I don't believe it." he exclaimed. "This, this tastes just like Belle's mother's recipe.

Adam softly smiled. "Yes, Belle said she went looking through her mother's old cook books and found the recipe. She was hoping she got it right."

Maurice smiled a sad, teary eyed smile. "Yes, she got it _just_ right. Say, where is Belle?"

Adam shook his head, "I-I don't know; I was hoping you knew."

Everyone started to look about the room for Belle. "Belle?"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Alone in the hallway of the east wing stood Belle and Denise, next to a closed door. Belle was leaning into the door, rapidly knocking on it. "Monsieur Forte! Come out and join us, you promised."

"Well, I changed my mind!" the musician yelled back from inside his room. Again Belle knocked urgently, she knew she was late for the party and knew they would be looking for her.

"Monsieur!" she desperately tried not to sound desperate. "Its important to all of us that you come and be a part of our family. This is your home too you know."

"I don't care! I'm not partaking in this silly excuse to make merriment on a holy day." he flatly insisted through the closed door.

Belle exhaled an exasperated breath. Now she was beginning to understand what her husband had felt the first night she had spent in the castle.

"Very well Forte, if that is what you wish." She then remembered what it took to get her out of her room that night so long ago. "You know, Monsieur, you'll be missing out on some of those wonderful dishes that Andrè makes only on _this night_."

"You can't tempt me with food, my lady." Forte partially bragged behind the door. "I told you, I grew eating turnips everyday, so naturally I learned not to care whether or not I eat."

"Mother," Denise spoke up as she inched her way between her mother and the door. "I know you say I can catch more bees with honey, but honey doesn't work on everyone."

The beast girl than began to bang on the door hard enough to shake the floor. "Forte!" she roared aggressively, making Belle cringe at the sound.

Immediately the door flung open and there stood Forte, looking down his nose at her with a stunned look and eyes opened wide.

"You will come down to the party at once, do you hear me!" the beast child demanded with all the authority of a general on the battle field, or a member of the royal family. "You promised my mother you would be there, and I want to hear you play a song! So, you are coming out of that room right now, got that!?"

"N-n-no!" the man sarcastically sneered, then slammed the door hard on her and her mother.

Denise growled angrily as she beat the door even harder than before. "My father doesn't pay you to tell me. 'no!' You come out of there this instant!"

Belle put her hands around Denise's shoulders. "Denise, dear!" she urged her daughter. "This won't get you anywhere. It didn't work on me when your father tried this, and I doubt it'll work on Monsieur Forte. Come, leave him alone. No point in us missing the party too."

Denise turned to go with her mother, then looked back at the closed door in frustration. "Why is he so, so, grrr, so _difficult_ Momma?"

"I'm sure he has his reasons honey. Now let's see if maybe Maestro Fife won't play you a song?"

Denise sighed, its not who she really wanted to hear, but at least Fife would be happy to preform a song for her. "OK Momma; but just then Denise turned and walked back to Forte's door. She spoke quietly this time, realizing that her aggressiveness got her nowhere before. "Maestro, I wish you would reconsider. I was hoping to see you have a good time tonight, I don't think of you as just a servant, but my friend, and my favorite one at that. But, if you don't want to come, that's OK. Um, if I don't see you before then, Merry Christmas."

She turned to walked back to her mother and the two women went down the stairs to join the party. They came down the stairs together and was happily greeted by much of the staff as well as both Prince Adam's who were beginning to worry about them. For the next several minutes, Denise kept looking behind her shoulder fully expecting to see Forte standing quietly in the background, but unfortunately that would not be the case.

Finally midnight arrived. Christmas was officially here. Young Prince Adam II had fallen asleep on one of the couches over an hour ago, and everyone had eaten their fill. Now was the time for music and dancing, with the first dance going to Prince Adam and Belle of course. From the side, Denise watched her mother and father move gracefully about the floor, like floating on clouds and she dreamed of dancing this very same way someday. Well, providing she found someone who would let her stay a her present form. Denise began to wildly applaud just as the music ended and her parents stopped right in front of her. "Momma, Poppa!" she exclaimed in awe. "You look so lovely dancing together. Will you dance together this next song too?"

Adam shook his head, "No, I'm going to dance the next song with a very special lady."

Denise was taken back a little, "A special lady?" she asked suspiciously. "I thought Momma was your special lady!"

Both Belle and Adam smiled at their daughter, "Well, I'll have you know, I have two special ladies in my life." But before she could say another word, he took Denise by the paw and led her to the center of the floor.

"Maestro, would you please." Adam raised his hand and made the signal to Fife.

"Yes, you majesty!" the lively perky man cheerfully added then politely bowed to the little princess. "Denise, I wrote this song just for you, I hope you like it." Fife then turned with baton in hand and immediately the orchestra began to play her song. The music was bouncy and bubbly just like what Denise would have expected from Fife. His music was delightful; cheerful; joyful, but it was all she had heard growing up. Even though she liked it, she knew there was more to this world than major chords.

In fact, when she had heard her father call out, 'maestro,' just now, she secretly hoped it would be Forte on the stage ready to respond. She could feel a disappointed sigh coming on, but covered it up with a tiny yawn. She smiled up at her dad hoping he wouldn't take the yawn to mean she was bored with his company; oh far from the truth. Her father had a way of always making her feel quite special in deed; no matter how blue she felt, he could always make her smile. Prince Adam smiled back, but saw there was a twinge of sorrow in his daughter's eyes. "Are you having a good time Denise?"

She nodded her head, trying all the more to shake off her blues. "Yes, Poppa. I'm having a very good time."

Adam looked up over her head and smiled broadly, knowing she was doing her best not to pout. He pulled her in a little closer as he twirled her around and sped up the pace of their dance. "Poppa?" Denise finally began to open up. "Why do people have to be such…fuddy-duddies?"

Adam chuckled hearing her words. "Young people today say such strange things." Denise chuckled too; anything that made her Poppa laugh made her laugh.

"I take it we're talking about a certain musician then?" Adam remarked as they continued to dance.

Denise shook her head, "Yes, Poppa. I keep trying to make Forte a part of the family, but he always acts like it is such a bother for him. Some times I think he doesn't like us."

"Oh Forte likes us well enough, Denise." her father assured her.

"How do you know? Did he tell you?" Denise asked skeptically.

"In…so many words, yes, he did." Prince Adam confidently insisted. "Trust me, Denise; still waters run deep."

Denise scrunched her furry nose, "Still waters run deep?" she repeated. "No offense Poppa, but you old people have weird ways of saying things."

Together they laughed again for a moment just as the song Fife had written for her ended. But, just as they finished their dance, from the other side of the room where the grand piano stood, came a new song with a mournful and haunting melody. Everyone turned to see it was the old Maestro sitting at the piano, playing with his eyes closed. The melody was itself was utterly enchanting; an arpeggiated piano, from major chord to minor chord; running through its major chord progression to return to a major/minor tradeoff. The second part of the verse was all a minor chord progression that built in volume and feeling. Then Forte who rarely actually sang to his music began to sing these words.

* I've heard about this baby boy

Who's come to earth to bring us joy

And I just want to sing this song to you

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

With every breath I'm singing Hallelujah

Hallelujah

A couple came to Bethlehem

Expecting child, they searched the inn

To find a place for You were coming soon

There was no room for them to stay

So in a manger filled with hay

God's only Son was born, oh Hallelujah

Hallelujah

The shepherds left their flocks by night

To see this baby wrapped in light

A host of angels led them all to You

It was just as the angels said

You'll find Him in a manger bed

Immanuel and Savior, Hallelujah

Hallelujah

A star shown bright up in the east

To Bethlehem, the wisemen three

Came many miles and journeyed long for You

And to the place at which You were

Their frankincense and gold and myrrh

They gave to You and cried out Hallelujah

Hallelujah

I know You came to rescue me

This baby boy would grow to be

A man and one day die for me and you

My sins would drive the nails in You

That rugged cross was my cross, too

Still every breath You drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Forte had his eyes closed the entire time he played, unaware of anyone around him. When he finished, he slowly opened his eyes to see everyone in the room had stopped to listen to him. He saw Belle standing close by, while Adam and Denise stood close on his other side. "That my dear ladies…" he addressed Belle and Denise with a performer's bow of the head. His large, dark, buggy eyes glimmered with the wisdom of an aged sage. His voice was soft yet authoritative. "…Is the meaning of Christmas. It is the commemoration of a sacred and holy event; not some excuse to throw parties."

Whether Forte intended it or not, his beautiful song brought the festive chatter to a screeching halt. What had been his intention, was make the people think and reflect on what the literal meaning of Christmas was, and most in the reception saw his point of view well enough. Except for a few, who had grown weary of his constant negativity years ago and had come to expect the worse from him.

As Forte slowly rose to leave the piano, Angelique snorted angrily. "I knew if there was a way to ruin this party, Forte would find it. Why don't you just crawl back into that hole in a ceiling of your's, you, you misanthrope!"

Forte gave no real expression other than his usual dim and glum aura. "Not misanthrope, sweet Angelique; just, misunderstood," he drearily sighed and with that. he left the hall as quietly as he came.

—THE END

* Song credit goes to Cloverton. A Hallelujah Christmas link to video and lyrics:

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